From May Till December
by Nerweniel
Summary: When Minerva McGonagall wakes up feeling sick, she does not yet realize that exactly that sickness will, from May till December, change her life. But there is always... Dolores Umbridge... ADMM
1. Prologue

**From May Till December**  
  
**Prologue  
**  
It was a lovely, May morning at Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was a lovely, May ray of sun which entered the Deputy Headmistress's room and awoke her.   
  
But it were not lovely, May thoughts which made her get up and run.  
  
Because on that particular, May morning, Minerva McGonagall reached the toilet in time.  
  
Unlike the morning before- and before- and before. She'd thrown up all over the carpet earlier- and though one swish of her wand sufficed to clean it up, it did not at all help her stomach problems. In fact, they only got worse, Minerva realized, as a feeling of sudden nausea made her fall down on her chair and close her eyes. It had now been a week- more than a week… and she still did not feel any better.   
  
Well, that was not exactly true- over the day, the sickness usually got better, but then, as she woke up, she knew she had to run again.  
  
And Albus's departure had not really made it any better.  
  
She still sighed as she remembered that day- that horrible, terrible day- when Dolores Umbridge- that... that toad of a woman- had forced her beloved husband and admired employer to leave Hogwarts… and her… behind.   
  
As she felt a new wave of sickness made her run over to the bathroom again. No- it had certainly not gotten better…  
  
And she did not understand. She truly didn't. She had faced decades on this world- she had seen people die in her Auror days- she had lived through various major flu epidemics without being ill one single time, and now, she suddenly could not help it… It just had to be the flu.  
  
As she got to her feet and, despite the terrible dizziness that was the ever inevitable result of her nausea, started undoing her long, cotton nightdress and buttoning her daily, emerald robes, she sighed. If there ever had been an unsuitable moment to catch a flu…  
  
For god's sake, she could not get ill! Not now- not while Dolores Umbridge terrorized her beloved Hogwarts, not while her students and the Order of the Phoenix needed her more than ever! With a faint, determined nod of her head, she stepped into her practical pumps.  
  
As long as she did not catch a fever- which, so her cool forehead proved, she had not yet done- she would not bend! Not that she would, by the way, if she did catch a fever.   
  
There. Having put on her pumps and pulled together her long hair in a braid, she sat down in her favourite chair with a sigh.   
  
Poppy mustn't find out, she sternly told herself. Because if Poppy found out…  
  
She found her next thoughts buried in a muffled yawn. Strange. She had never needed much sleep…   
  
But a feeling of drowsiness overtook her, and her eyelids fell… 


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**  
  
"Minerva!"  
  
The well-known high shriek along with hard banging on her door slowly, very slowly reached Minerva McGonagall's ears through the thick, strange mist that blurred her mind.   
  
"Mmmh…"  
  
"Ilba Roma!" came the quick reaction to her mumbling- it was the password to her rooms- and immediately, the dark, mahogany door slammed against the wall.   
  
"Minerva?" now said the same voice again- much softer, yet still undoubtedly Poppy Pomfrey's…  
  
As the firm but concerned hands of the school nurse lightly shook Minerva's shoulders, she found her eyelids flutter and as her own, emerald eyes met the light blue ones of her friend and colleague, she landed back on earth with a rather nasty thump.  
  
Poppy Pomfrey's jaw dropped as she put her hands on her hips. Minerva blinked in embarrassment and immediately sat up straight, a fiery blush creeping on her usually so chalk white cheeks.  
  
"Poppy- I am so sorry. What's the time? I must-"  
  
She half got up- but the firm, certain hand of the Mediwitch pushed her back among the cushions.  
  
"Oh no, Minerva, you "must" do nothing! You are going to be a nice girl and you're going to tell me immediately what is wrong with you!"  
  
Minerva rolled her eyes, yet found herself gladly leaning back into the chair.   
  
"Nothing is…"  
  
Poppy Pomfrey rolled her eyes so wildly that it was hard to believe she actually had eyes left afterwards. She shook her head in that typical I-know-better way of hers, and Minerva knew there was nothing she could do if Poppy had that particular look in her eyes…   
  
And as, on top of it all, a sudden wave of nausea filled her mouth with a bitter taste, she realized that was very bad timing indeed.  
  
"Minerva McGonagall, it's not a habit of yours to fall asleep again after having dressed. For heaven's sake, you're the kind of woman who can be happily out and about at 5 o'clock without even blinking! No, you are obviously not well and I insist…"  
  
"Poppy, let me go…" Minerva interrupted her friend in a mumble. Poppy made a vague gesture of stopping her- but Minerva pushed her aside and she gave in.   
  
Luckily, because Minerva- again- reached the bathroom right in time.   
  
As she fell down in front of the toilet, she closed her eyes… and not entirely out of disgust. Bad, bad timing. As she felt two soft, soothing but determined hands stroke her hair, she moaned out loud.  
  
Now Poppy would go all fussy again. And- it was not that she didn't appreciate her friend's caring for her, but really- fussing was the last thing she needed at the moment. A quick glance at her pocket watch showed her that breakfast was about to begin- and what oh what would the "Headmistress" think if Minerva did not turn up?  
  
When she'd managed to flush the toilet and stand up quite straight again, she sent Poppy a begging glance  
  
"Poppy…"  
  
But the way her friend had her arms crossed told her that she would not get away with this…   
  
Minerva inwardly scolded herself for falling asleep in her chair- but she knew she could never have helped it. She had just felt so immensely tired- she had not had a real good night's rest since Albus's departure, some weeks earlier. She just could not fall asleep in that suddenly so large, empty bed, without his cerulean, wise, twinkling eyes to drown in. So she tossed and turned- and so she felt exhausted.  
  
"Minerva Katherine McGonagall, don't give me the puppy eyes! I've known you for over forty years- but it isn't as if that's necessary to see you are obviously ill and not able to teach! You are going to lay down on that bed and…"  
  
But Minerva knew she couldn't do that. And she knew Poppy knew she couldn't do that.  
  
One word stopped the Mediwitch's torrent of words immediately- as Minerva knew it would.  
  
"Dolores."  
  
Minerva sighed, yet read a reluctant look of understanding in her friend's eyes.  
  
"I cannot stay away from breakfast with Dolores around- who knows what new "rules" she'll introduce today. Albus told me Hogwarts needed me, Poppy, and I won't disappoint him. Besides- I have been this ill every morning for about two weeks now and I know it- it'll get better during the day."  
  
Her large, emerald green eyes did all the begging they could, and unwillingly, slowly, Poppy's determined hands slid off her hips.   
  
With a half-hearted nod, she sighed, but raised her index finger as in a warning.  
  
"You can go, Minerva, but tonight, you are coming to see me. You are not well and knowing you, that is very strange indeed."  
  
"Poppy, that really isn't…"  
  
"I can always change my mind!" the Mediwitch almost snapped as she opened the door.  
  
"Now are you coming with me?"  
  
Minerva McGonagall came with her. 


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**  
  
As Minerva took her usual place at the Head Table, a faint fit of dizziness overtook her and made her almost fall down on her chair. Dolores Umbridge's toad-like smile turned towards her and slid off her face as Minerva answered it with a cold glare.  
  
Turning away from the most horrible excuse for a Headmistress Hogwarts had ever known- and thus turning towards Poppy Pomfrey, she forced a faint smile on her lips. The school nurse ironically raised her eyebrows, though, and Minerva rolled her eyes, turning towards the food.  
  
Her stomach made a protesting sound at the mere sight of the eggs-and-bacon, though, and she sighed. Ok, scratch "having breakfast" then.   
  
But a quick glance at both her table neighbours told her she would have to eat. Poppy's fussing and Umbridge's sheer evilness basically had the same result… so with only the slightest blink of her eyelids, Minerva started buttering a small piece of toast. Lovely self-control.  
  
If only that self-control applied to her stomach as well.  
  
It took her every bit of will-power she had to actually nibble on the toast as if she liked it. Casting a supposed-to-be reassuring smile at the Mediwitch, Minerva's stomach turned. Okay. So the swallowing was the worst. Anyway.  
  
After she'd managed to consume the toast with a minimum of hideous coughs, she turned towards her so-called boss and in a polite, yet icy voice asked her permission to leave the table.  
  
"I've got some lessons to prepare for my 4th years."  
  
As Dolores Umbridge granted her a rather curt nod, not even bothering about the usual, slimy smile, Minerva could, despite her nausea, hardly oppress a triumphant smile. The old toad obviously was too dumb to realize that her dearest Transfigurations colleague had the first hour off- since the 5th years were already doing their OWL's.  
  
With a sigh and completely ignoring the rather curious stares she got from the students and the I-know-better glance of Poppy Pomfrey, Minerva walked back to her rooms. The irony of it all was, of course: as soon as she'd fallen down in her favourite chair, the sickness was over again and she felt as vital as ever. Murphy's la-aw…  
  
With an irritated shrug of her shoulders, Minerva sighed and sat down at her desk, back perfectly erect as always. And now? She tapped her fingers in frustration against the dark, mahogany wood, then looked through the window. Her face softened as her eyes met the little, discrete building that was Hagrid's hut. Rubeus Hagrid….  
  
She secretly thanked God that Dolores Umbridge had chosen Sybill Trelawney to fire, and not Hagrid… How fair and just she wanted to be- she could not deny that seeing Hagrid being fired would be ripping her heart apart. Hagrid was one of her and Albus's oldest friends- he was a true friend, a faithful friend and an immensely nice person on top of it. His strange affiliation with and liking for dangerous and everything-except-friendly creatures was unfortunate, but just a part of him, like his eyes, beard or nose. She and Albus had learnt to accept it long ago.  
  
Albus…   
  
As the name of her husband-since-years made her feel- again- the strange, deep missing that mostly only fell on her at night, she sighed and knew she had to avert her gaze from the window. With a brusque, impatient gesture, she grabbed her quill and started correcting some 3nd-year's essays. It was better than losing herself in melancholy anyway…  
  
= = = = = = = = = =  
  
As Minerva, at noon, fell down on her usual chair at the Head Table, she needed every inch of self-control she possessed in order not to immediately attack the richly-filled plates and dishes. Because that was the strange thing about her upcoming flu, stomach disease... whatever it was. At breakfast, she could hardly swallow a light piece of bread- but at lunch… At lunch she felt like consuming an elephant- literally. She'd found herself eating the strangest things- come think of it, perhaps that exactly was the cause of her stomach problems…  
  
Looking down on the delicious-looking chicken pasty before her, Minerva closed her eyes and bit her lips. But as the smell reached her nose, she knew she couldn't resist it…  
  
Not that she had to worry about her weight or things- oh, of course she didn't! Firstly, she thought all those diet things most witches were into totally ridiculous, and secondly; she had always been rather thin- even long years hadn't added much weight to her still slender frame. Yet, she had been feeling rather bloated, lately… But one mustn't worry too much, must one- and after all, she had got so many troubles already- she could at least try to enjoy her food.  
  
Just as she was happily chewing on a particularly delicious roasted potato, her left ear suddenly caught a sound like- like a very irritating, very disgusting, very ugly fly would make.  
  
"Hem, hem…"  
  
Minerva's eyebrows rose higher than ever before. She rolled her eyes, yet had the decency of emptying her mouth before asking rather sharply  
  
"Yes, Dolores?"  
  
The broad smile her "superior" cast her made her feel almost as sick as she'd felt in the morning. The confidently whispering tone of voice even more so  
  
"Minerva, dear, have you never wondered about the competency of certain teachers?"  
  
The feeling of being called "dear" by Dolores Umbridge was completely overshadowed by Minerva's sudden reaction of disgust and… and fear. Her eyes- she could not help it- shot immediately towards the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, who was merrily chewing on what looked like a whole chicken…  
  
The "Headmistress" grinned broadly and nodded.  
  
"Yes, Minerva, I notice you have also been thinking about it…"  
  
Minerva stared back at her colleague, the expression of repulsion in her emerald eyes as clear as possibly could be.  
  
"No," she then said, clearly and yet sounding so weakly. She heard her voice reach a peak of worry as she uttered  
  
"Not Hagrid!" 


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three  
**  
Minerva literally fell down on the couch, that evening. All the vitality of that noon had through a very tiring, very frustrating afternoon slowly leaked away- until only a feeling of immense weariness remained. With a short, stifled yawn, she started to take off the long, dark green cloak she had been wearing- and took a very deep, much needed breath.   
  
Dolores would drive her to a nervous breakdown one time. She surely would.   
  
Oh dammit- she would.  
  
Her insinuations about Hagrid had continued during the afternoon- Minerva had tried to avoid her as she always did, but after all, what could she do? Dolores was a member of the staff and thus could enter the Teachers' Lounge- Minerva's favourite spot during free hours.   
  
Oh how she'd sat there- the false smile fixed on her face, playing with her hair as if she was a teenage girl- let alone the occasional giggle accompanying her words. Even Minerva's sternest glare- the one that would probably have been able to give Slytherin 7th years an instant heart attack- could not stop the Headmistress's never-ending torrent of words.  
  
At first, Minerva had wondered why Dolores told her all this. After all- and especially after the already legendary Career Advice of Harry Potter- they were, to say the least, not the best of friends. So why did Dolores take pains in telling her exactly what she was up to? Her, of all persons?  
  
But as soon as her green eyes, quickly glancing up from the essays she'd been grading, had looked up into the bulging, blue ones of her "employer" at an unexpected moment, she had known why Dolores did this. Not to warn her, not to in any way discuss it with her, but simply -oldest thing in the world!- to pester her. Especially when the Headmistress's high-pitched, girly voice had echoed in her ear  
  
"But of course I won't fire him right away… I am still considering…"  
  
Because through all childishness and ridicule in her voice had shone her true nature- proved in the most malicious gloating Minerva had ever witnessed.   
  
Dolores would fire Hagrid- but no-one except her was to know when, how or where. That was the heart of the matter. She could then perhaps not torture Minerva the way she could torture her students- but mental torture was, after all, not bad either…  
  
Minerva sighed as she lay down her quill immediately after picking it up. No- she could not start correcting now- she could not possibly do that to the poor 4th years. She was usually strict, but now, she felt as if she'd start crying and yelling at the first mistake she spotted.  
  
She hadn't cried in ages- well, not since Albus' departure…- and she certainly didn't feel like it now. With a short, irritated shrug of her shoulders, she sat down again and took out of her upper shelf an old issue of "Transfiguration Today"- the magazine which she often used while preparing her classes and for which she had ever written an occasional article. Perhaps a good read could calm her raging nerves down…  
  
= = = = = = = = = =   
  
But when she, according to her watch around half past ten, opened her eyes again and found herself resting with one cheek on her magazine, hair half sprawled out over "Transfiguration in Ancient Egypt- Worshipping the Cat", she could not have been more ashamed. She felt a fiery blush creep across her already flustered cheeks, and almost reprimanded herself out loud for doing such a totally out of character thing. She had never truly needed more than 5 hours of sleep a night, and now, she'd all of a sudden fallen asleep, sitting at her desk at bloody half past six, and slept for four full hours! Four!  
  
The unusually long amount of time made her frown, but that frown was nothing compared to the look of horror that leapt across her face, as one name shot into her mind.  
  
Poppy.  
  
Oh, damn it- Poppy!  
  
She almost jumped to her feet- totally ignoring the faint dizziness caused by the interrupted sleep- and, as quick as her feet could with any dignity carry her, literally ran towards the Hospital Wing. As she knocked on the door- it was immediately thrown open- she was panting and out of breath, her side aching with every much needed gulp of air she took.  
  
The look in Madam Pomfrey's eyes was enough to make her lower her eyes in shame.  
  
"Minerva- Catríona- McGonagall."  
  
Poppy started to use her Gaelic middle name. This was worse than she thought.  
  
"My dear, if I wasn't so sure that you are ill- I would hex you into next week."  
  
Minerva didn't react, until the- slightly impatient- voice of her friend and colleague almost ripped her eardrums apart.  
  
"Now are you coming in or aren't you?"  
  
Minerva did came in, slightly shivering- and not only because of the cool, late evening breeze blowing through the half-opened window. Half turning towards her friend, she muttered  
  
"I am sorry, Poppy. I forgot about the time."  
  
It was not even a lie.  
  
As the School Nurse rolled her eyes and pointed at an empty bed, separated from the others- not that there where any- by a large screen, Minerva knew she'd been "forgiven" and cast her friend a grateful glance for not asking more. Well- she'd never admit she had fallen asleep anyway, but still.  
  
"It is alright, Minerva. Now-"   
  
Poppy made an impatient gesture towards the bed.  
  
"Lie down there, and let's see what we've got!"  
  
Minerva obeyed, shifting uncomfortably on the clean, white sheets- then rolled her eyes behind her friend's back. Poppy was just fussing over nothing, of course, but she knew better than to irritate her friend now. With a theatrically patient look in her eyes, she allowed her head to lean back on the cushion- surprised at how well it felt. Well it did feel better than "Transfiguration in Ancient Egypt", naturally, but still…  
  
As Poppy turned around, Minerva quickly adjusted on her face a look of decent patience, and the Mediwitch approvingly nodded, eyeing the transparent-looking liquid in the vial she was holding.  
  
"Right…"  
  
Then, addressing her friend on the bed, she explained  
  
"Since, if I remember well, you're not particularly fond of muggle examining methods, I have prepared this for you."  
  
At Minerva's blank facial expression, a faint smile played round the corners of the nurse's mouth.  
  
"But since you have never been a Healing Magic genius, I suppose I'll have to explain. This is a Gniadosis-potion, Minerva. I'll need one hair of you- one still-very-black-and-not-at-all-grey hair, might I add…"  
  
A somewhat jealous glance slid from the still very black, thick hair on Minerva's head towards the short, greyish-blonde braid that fell down the Mediwitch's left shoulder.  
  
"Anyway, I'll add that hair to my potion here, then it'll take a certain colour and I'll know immediately what is wrong with you."  
  
Minerva sighed.  
  
"Poppy, there is nothing wrong with… hey!"  
  
"We will see…" her colleague sceptically commented, triumphantly holding a long, curly black hair between her somewhat chubby fingers.  
  
"Here we go… it takes about ten minutes."  
  
Minerva sighed and rolled her eyes once more.  
  
"And wherefore, pray tell me, Madam Pomfrey, did I need to lie down then?"  
  
Poppy Pomfrey shrugged her shoulders and then, a slight chuckle softened her usually so stern appearance.  
  
"For nothing, Minerva, but you did look tired."  
  
Minerva smiled and nodded.  
  
"Well- anyway…"  
  
She was about to gratefully snuggle her head into the cushion again- until a strange noise reached her sharp, feline ears and she did not know why, but she immediately jumped to her feet. Perhaps it was that same, feline instinct, that wanted to warn her against upcoming danger. Unfortunately, it was exactly that very warning that made her do what she did…  
  
She walked over to the window and stuck her head out of it. Oh- no…  
  
"Reasonable be damned…" echoed the voice of a man she knew very well over Hogwarts's grounds.  
  
Oh- no…  
  
Hagrid.  
  
And all of a sudden, as she noticed the dark silhouette of the half-giant against the late evening sky, it was as if Albus himself called for her. And she ran, pushing aside Poppy and everything else, ignoring the pain in her side.  
  
Poppy, too surprised to really do something, did not follow her.  
  
Until, perhaps thirty seconds later, the full vial on her desk made a tinkling noise. She looked up- and never grew the Mediwitch's large, blue eyes bigger than on that very moment.  
  
A strange, light pink light coming undoubtedly from the liquor in the bottle, made her dark, wooden desk light up in a soft, beautiful glow.   
  
But her cool, rational brain very rapidly returned from the world of fairytale happiness the light spread.  
  
She knew every second counted now.   
  
And Poppy Pomfrey ran- she ran as quickly as her short legs could carry her. She ran for her friend- and yet for something more.  
  
But she would arrive too late.   
  
Because already, before poor, slow Poppy had even reached Hogwarts' ground floor, the students atop of the Astronomy Tower saw the large doors of their school being thrown open.  
  
"How dare you? How _dare _you?"  
  
Minerva's voice echoed across the lawns, as she- forgetting all dizziness, forgetting all sickness and weakness, forgetting even her "disease" and the Mediwitch she'd left behind- ran towards the four- five- persons standing before the small house of Hogwarts' groundskeeper.   
  
"Leave him alone!" she shrieked, putting her hands on her hips so as to stop the pain- she wasn't twenty anymore, after all…  
  
"Alone I say! On what grounds are you attacking him?"  
  
All fury, all hatred, all despair and pain ringed clearer than ever through her voice.  
  
"He has done nothing- nothing to warrant such-"  
  
This was the moment when Poppy had finally reached the already opened door. It was irony, sheer irony of fate- that she arrived just a single second too late.  
  
Her scream mingled with those of the Gryffindor girls on the tower as the dark shadows in front of the hut sent not less than four- four!- Stunners towards her still running friend.  
  
She saw Minerva- poor, foolish, brave Minerva- fall, as if in slow motion, on her back. The tall, black-haired woman glowed a ghostly kind of deep red, then everything became dark again.   
  
Sprawled out on the dark green lay Minerva McGonagall, eyes still opened in a furious glare.   
  
But an empty one.  
  
And it was only when, minutes later, the red radiance had faded entirely from her friend's unnaturally pale face, that Poppy Pomfrey found her voice again. Only one word did she utter- scream- cry…  
  
One word, in which lay hidden all her despair, all her worry, all her pain. All her hatred towards the people who perhaps had- without even having the faintest notion- destroyed the one and perchance only true bit of happiness the two bravest people of the wizarding world still had left…   
  
One word held everything.  
  
"Minerva!" 


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four  
  
"Minerva!" Poppy repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. Her voice had left her- and as she, with all strength left in her now unsteady, short legs, sprinted towards the place where her friend had fallen down, her eyesight was blurred with thick, regretful teardrops.  
  
Minerva's cheeks had gone from an agitated, bright red, to a kind of pale that was not entirely of this world. Her thick, raven hair had spontaneously sprung out of its long braid, encircling her frozen face like a dark halo. For that her face was- nothing less that frozen, taken by surprise in the most cowardly way imaginable. Her eyes were still opened, but the emerald green had lost all of its usual fierceness, all of its usual life, and the deep crimson lips were slightly parted in obvious question.   
  
But the hands were still balled, and as Poppy took one of them so as to feel for a pulse, she noticed the little marks, pressed into the skin by Minerva's own fingernails, there where the Scottish temper and the Gryffindor bravery had taken over.  
  
It was hard to believe there was any life left in the frail and still, yet not peaceful, body of the woman on the grass, with her pale face and motionless eyes, yet as Poppy slowly, very slowly, allowed her fingertips to dwindle over the arms of her friend so as to search for a heartbeat, she couldn't but feel, deep inside, a small, yet certain, throbbing of blood through the woman's body.  
  
Minerva McGonagall lived- she had done what many, many young people before her probably wouldn't have been capable of. She had survived four stunners, straight into the chest.  
  
Yes, she had survived them. She had. But it was close to impossible that he- she- it had survived the so sudden, so rash attack on what was supposed to form his- her- its living place for the seven months to come? There was a chance, she knew, looking down on the face of her friend, reading the old lines of determinedness on them.  
  
But it was a slim chance, and that too she knew.  
  
A slim chance- a minuscule chance…  
  
It was close to a miracle that Minerva- even though she was a considerably powerful witch- had managed to survive the cowardly assault, but it would be nothing short to… to an impossibility, almost, that not one, but two persons had survived the cruel assail.   
  
Yes, Poppy's relief was great when she felt the soft, but real, heartbeat of her friend, but she, as a Mediwitch, knew very well this "achievement" meant close to nothing, compared to what was to come. Because perhaps Minerva's naturally quite strong body had survived the sudden shock of the four hexes, but how would it react on the aftermath? On the healing process- because damn, there would be one hell of a healing process required! Poppy's tears- tears of frustration, tears of anger even- fell down on her and her friend's intertwined hands as she realized what they- they, over there- had done to the woman before her. When one tear fell down, slowly, as if it too was mourning, on the Deputy Headmistress's emerald-clad stomach, Poppy bit her lips until a small stream of blood rolled down her chin and stained her bright white robes. It wasn't the moment to cry now.   
  
Someone's life had to be saved.  
  
It was only then that Poppy Pomfrey became aware- again- of the five people standing in front of the hut. Hagrid's cries "Cowards!" had reached her ears through a thick blur, but only now did she look up- right in time to see the largest figure of the five run off into the Forbidden Forest.   
  
A small breath of relief left her mouth at this sight- at least Hagrid had managed to escape. At least that wicked Umbridge woman would not know the pleasure of having him expelled- or worse, having him sent to Azkaban. At least Minerva, though not even realizing it, had made her sacrifice not for just nothing. But the sigh of relief was quickly replaced by a gasp of anger as she, through the darkness, noticed a short, chubby figure nothing less than stumbling closer. Even through the late evening shadows, Poppy couldn't but notice the- almost victorious smile that played round the corners of the High Inquisitor's mouth. There she came, Hogwarts "Headmistress". The false Headmistress, coming to triumph over the real Headmistress, who was helplessly sprawled out on the grass.  
  
Because Minerva was the Headmistress. When Albus Dumbledore was away, then it was Minerva Catríona McGonagall who was to lead Hogwarts through whatever events might occur. That was the normal order of things- but then again, was there one "normal order" of things that Dolores Umbridge had not managed to destroy?  
  
But it was only as the other woman came closer and in a very fake-concerned voice remarked "Oh, poor Minerva. Will she be alright?", that Poppy Pomfrey realized that she would never, never ever, hate a person the way she hated Dolores Jane Umbridge.  
  
The woman did not realize what she had destroyed. She hadn't got a clue- really none at all.  
  
Poppy, still sitting, Minerva's head now cradled on her lap, looked up to her and opened her mouth- yet before she could speak out a rather sharp reply, the short shadow of Dolores was joined by a taller one, the one of a man.  
  
"Couldn't find the half-giant, Miss." the figure somewhat angrily reported.   
  
"The aggressive oaf just ran off- we presume he's escaped through the woods."  
  
Poppy's head snapped up at the casual mention of that one word.  
  
Aggressive. Aggressive, for God's sake. They- called- Rubeus Hagrid- aggressive?   
  
Carefully, slowly resting Minerva's head back on the grass, she stood up and straightened her back so as to make her short figure appear a little bit taller than it was.   
  
"Rubeus Hagrid," she began, her tone as icy as possible.  
  
"has never hurt a single creature in his entire life."  
  
It was a weak, very weak, imitation of the superbly disdainful voice Minerva McGonagall, Empress of all Ice Queens, could produce, but still.   
  
"While you…"   
  
Her threatening glare turned towards Dolores and the three men who now stood by her side.  
  
"have just injured, maybe scarred for life, the bravest witch I have ever known."  
  
And all of a sudden, that sugary sweet trademark smile of the "High Inquisitor" slid of her face, as she looked the other woman straight into the eye.  
  
"Now come on, Poppy." she almost literally spat, then.  
  
"Brave she was, perhaps, but rash. Rash and stupid, to believe…"  
  
"To believe what, Dolores? The truth?" Poppy swiftly answered- the only thing that kept her from yelling was the certain, indubitable knowledge that Minerva's life was lost if Dolores wanted it to be…  
  
The said woman even now narrowed her eyes already- as she slowly, threateningly, responded.  
  
"I wouldn't say such things if I were you, Madam Pomfrey."  
  
Poppy was about to lose her temper when… when the sudden feeling of the weight of the world on her shoulders made her shake her head and bow over her friend instead.  
  
"It was a question, Dolores."  
  
Then again, she did carry the weight of the world here. Minerva McGonagall meant the world. Without Minerva McGonagall, there was no Albus Dumbledore, and without Albus Dumbledore, there was no world. That was a fact, and even if it hadn't been one- if anyone was worth saving, then it probably was Minerva.  
  
Even though there had been another someone there, with her, who maybe, almost certainly, could not be saved anymore. Because even without the weight, the package she had been carrying, Minerva's life was, and always had been, a worthy one, one to fight for.  
  
"Wingardium Leviosa." Poppy then said simply, and, not bothering to speak another word to the so-called Headmistress and her minions, she turned towards the castle, an ill-looking and still way too pale Minerva floating a few feet before her.  
  
Only as she levitated her friend back on the same bed where she had ran away from, only sheer minutes ago, Poppy allowed her tears to fall down again. As the door went open again behind her, and the four unwanted guests came in, she swallowed and oppressed them, though.  
  
"We have to take her to St-Mungo's." stated one of the men accompanying Dolores at the mere sight of Minerva, and Poppy knew he was right. It was hard to say which one was the whitest- Minerva or the bed spread, and Poppy knew very well that every moment counted.  
  
Merely ten minutes later, Minerva was transported to the wizarding hospital- and Poppy was left behind, with the strict orders to stay at Hogwarts and not to mention anything to anyone.  
  
But as soon as a now totally bewildered Poppy Pomfrey sat down at her mahogany desk, an empty piece of parchment before her, she knew there was one person she needed to tell. Desperately needed to tell.  
  
But how oh how, she mused as her quill hesitated above the yellowish surface of the parchment, how did one tell a man that his wife was badly injured?  
  
And how, oh how, in name of Merlin, did one tell a man that his unborn child- perhaps- probably- surely- had been killed? 


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**  
  
Albus Dumbledore awoke with the sun, the next morning- and found a well-filled plate on his bedside table. Breakfast, apparently, and he smiled whilst throwing off the sheets. Thank you, Rosmerta.  
  
For that was where the unfortunate Headmaster had gone- very simply, but very effectively at the same time; Hogsmeade. The Three Broomsticks.  
  
Both he and Minerva had known Madam Rosmerta for years- Minerva had taught her for seven years and he himself had already been Headmaster by then. And they had always known that, whatever would come to pass, she would always be there, ready to count on and ready to fight for the good side. She'd never been an Order member, true, but she'd helped the Order many times in the previous war against Voldemort, as well as in the present one, and when Dolores Umbridge had forced Albus to leave his beloved Hogwarts to her questionable cares, the Headmaster had immediately known that Rosmerta's hidden, spare room would once more prove its usefulness. For that was where the Headmaster had slept and lived in for the past days, occasionally Flooing to Grimmauld Place and back.  
  
Albus smiled once more as he stretched out his arms in order to get the usual, sleepy feeling out of his limbs. It proved more difficult than usual, though- he had not slept well. He'd had a nightmare- and though he couldn't even remember what about, it had frightened him and caused him to lie awake for the greater part of the dark hours.   
  
As he wanted to start his breakfast, though, taking the plate and resting it on his knees, the frightened, worried feeling inside of his stomach that had kept him awake came back full force, though. A small, yellowish envelope lay beside his plate- and somehow, whilst recognizing the big, clear handwriting on the envelope, the bacon and eggs lost all their appeal. His long, bony fingers trembled whilst trying to open the envelope- the knot inside of him grew bigger and bigger.  
  
Why Poppy, he wondered. Why Poppy, while Minerva was there to send him messages about the what, why and how of the school? She had done so, after all- he'd been away for merely three days, and already two long, optimistic, although hardly hiding the writer's despair, letters formed a neat little pile on the corner of his small desk. And now, all of a sudden, a letter from Poppy.  
  
It wasn't that he didn't like Poppy- oh no, she was a trusted friend of both him and Minerva, but perhaps that exactly was the reason why her letter bothered him. If it had been Severus, he'd understood it- the inter-House rivalry tended to sometimes affect the Heads of Houses as well, even though since they were both Order members Severus and Minerva got on remarkably better. Still- it would have been understandable.  
  
But Poppy? Poppy, who was about Minerva's best friend?  
  
That could only lead to the next suggestion, the one that made him shiver, the one he didn't even want to think about. The suggestion that his own, beautiful, strong, brave Minerva wasn't able anymore to write a letter herself. That was the only way he could possibly put it- the only way he could possibly think about it.   
  
Shaking his head as if to shoo off those –naturally wrong, he convinced himself!- assumptions, he took the letter out and with shaking hands started to read the letter.  
  
Three seconds later he was lying on the floor- fainted. 


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**  
  
**A special, extra long and extra quick chapter for Portkey Miss Mione whose review made me feel hell guilty :)! Trouwens, jouw reviews zijn altijd heel leuk om te lezen en sorry dat ik zo traag update!  
**  
And that was how Madam Rosmerta found her guest, about ten minutes after the contents of the letter had so shocked the Headmaster. Whistling softly under her breath, she opened the mahogany wooden door. She came to get his empty breakfast plate- she assumed he'd already be up and at Grimmauld Place, as he was every morning.  
  
What she saw as she entered the room was something entirely different, though, than just an empty plate.  
  
Albus Dumbledore was lying sprawled out on top of his bed covers, still wearing his pyjamas, a yellowish piece of parchment clenched tightly in his closed fist. His eyes were closed, and Rosmerta could hardly suppress a fearful shriek as she rushed towards him, now trembling herself. After a vain attempt to wake him, she grabbed the letter. Privacy and things were alright, but she really needed to know what exactly could make the powerful, great Headmaster of the most important wizarding school in the world faint as if he were a little child.   
  
Deep down, she very well knew the answer, though. Everyone knew what- who- was the most precious to Headmaster Dumbledore. It was a public secret.  
  
Minerva.  
  
She was proved right as she started to read.  
  
"Dear Albus," the letter began.   
  
Rosmerta immediately recognized the handwriting of Poppy Pomfrey, the school nurse and an ex-classmate of hers- they were the same age and had both been in Hufflepuff.  
  
"You probably wonder why I write to you- yes, I know you do, although you'd never admit it. You were expecting a letter from Minerva, I know, but that exactly is why I write to you.   
Albus, this is so difficult for me. I know how much you love Minerva, and I know that what I will tell you will break your heart…"  
  
Rosmerta felt as if her heartbeat had suddenly stopped. She liked Minerva , liked her very much, to tell the truth, and like all the Professor's ex-students she couldn't possibly believe that there was anything that could ever hurt formidable, great Professor McGonagall.  
  
"…but I cannot possibly keep this from you and I know you wouldn't want it, too. The fact is; Minerva has been too brave for this world, as always, Albus. Dolores Umbridge wanted to sack Hagrid, Minerva defended him and Dolores and her Ministry friends shot four stunners straight into her chest."  
  
On this moment, Madam Rosmerta felt like fainting herself- yet she didn't and read on.  
  
"I am so sorry. They brought her to St. Mungo's, Albus- that's probably where she is now. There is a chance she'll survive- she has always been a strong one, don't give up hoping. I would so like to end here- but there is more. Something which neither you nor Minerva had ever expected to happen, has happened. Oh Albus, I am so sorry for you.   
For she was pregnant, Albus, Minerva was two months pregnant. She rushed outside before I could tell her or stop her… when I caught up with her it was too late. Look, Albus, I'll tell you this- I don't want to give you any false hope. The chance that both Minerva and the baby survive is very, very small.   
  
I am more sorry for both of you than words can ever express.  
  
Your,  
  
Poppy Pomfrey"  
  
Rosmerta fell down in a chair- tears in her eyes and on her cheeks as she looked down to the man on the bed. She felt sadness, true, but above all deep, deep pity for both him and his wife. She had known them for very long- she'd seen them get together, watched them slowly, slowly confess the feelings they both had fostered for so many years. Then their marriage had come- she'd been there, ten years earlier. They had been so happy- but naturally, they had both assumed that it was too late for kids, even though Minerva was strictly spoken still rather young for a witch. They'd just never thought of it. They both loved children, though- and this day should have been the happiest in their lives.   
  
But it wasn't, thanks to Dolores Jane Umbridge…She sighed and looked at Albus's motionless face again, as she softly started to shake him.  
  
"Albus?"   
  
He didn't move, and she shook a bit harder.  
  
"Albus, please!"   
  
A stifled moan escaped the man's thin lips, and slowly, his blue eyes fluttered open and met the big, dark, concerned ones of Rosmerta. Albus half sat up and looked around, confused.  
  
"Rosemerta, what is…"  
  
As his eyes fell on the folded letter in her hands, realization dawned- she read it in his eyes and her unconscious smile at his waking slid off her face.   
  
"Minerva!"  
  
Rosmerta was forced to use all strength she possessed to keep him from running off to St. Mungo's at once. She succeeded eventually to lock the door and pushed him down on a chair. He immediately tried to get up again- but dizziness resulting from him previous unconscious state prevented him from pushing her firm arms aside.  
  
"Rosmerta, please!"  
  
The witch felt the blood rush to her cheeks under his sad, begging gaze- and she immediately felt bad. Who was she, after all, to prevent a worried man to go visit his badly injured wife? But instantly she realized she was right in keeping him from going. He was still a wizard on the run, after all.  
  
"Albus, I cannot let you. If you rush to St. Mungo's now, in the state you're in, you'll get arrested before you can pronounce "Minerva". And where are you then?"  
  
He sighed and nodded, yet then shook his head and looked up at her again. His eyes were filled with tears- Rosmerta didn't reckon ever having seen him cry.   
  
"My wife is lying there, Rosmerta- in the hospital. My own, darling Minerva is lying there, with a child under her heart that… that…"  
  
All Rosmerta could do was softly, clumsily pat his back as he cried out loud. She saw, she knew that he realized her arguments were reasonable- he knew he could not go, and at the same time he so very much wanted to.  
  
"A child that- that will never live…"  
  
"Albus, I am so sorry."  
  
"She wanted a child- she never spoke about it, but I know she wanted one. She's spent years raising other people's sons and daughters- why, why for God's sake, couldn't she have one of her own then? But as long as she, as long as my own, sweet, darling, brave Minerva survives, then all is alright for me- but if she doesn't…"  
  
He didn't finish his sentence, but Rosmerta knew what he wanted to say.  
  
"If she doesn't, then neither will I…" 


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

A week passed, and every day Poppy went to visit Minerva. Albus had, via Madam Rosmerta, asked her to, but she would have gone anyway. She could, however, not get to know for sure whether the baby was dead or alive. It was silly of her to still hope, perhaps, but it was sheer impossible for her to accept the other possibility. It was so unfair! Albus and Minerva had spent years and years together- not once had the chance of pregnancy occurred to them, but they had both wanted kids. Poppy was, and had always been, sure of that.

And as she sat there, next to her friend, holding the pale, unconscious Minerva's slender hand, she really wished she could perform a diagnosis charm and be at least sure. But she knew she couldn't. Being an intimate friend of both the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, there was no chance whatsoever to be left alone with the ill Minerva. Discretely yet still painfully obviously present in the corner of the room was placed a Ministry Official, and he didn't leave the room until Poppy herself had left, after mostly about an hour.

She talked to Minerva, though- of course she did, the way she'd always talked to Minerva. About trivialities, mostly- the daily life at Hogwarts, well, as far as there still was something like a "daily life" with the so-called High Inquisitor around.

She told Minerva that "her students missed her a lot"- which was true, but not at all satisfying to Poppy and, if she could hear it, not to Minerva either, the Mediwitch knew. Only just before she left she managed to whisper a few words in her friend's ear- mostly little messages from the Headmaster, passed on via, again, Madam Rosmerta.

"Love from Albus, Minerva."... "He loves you, Minerva." ... "Get well soon, Minerva, he's waiting..."...

After a week, though, she decided it had been enough. The Ministry had power- yes, perhaps, even though it wasn't rightful. But did the Ministry really have the power to control, nothing less than control, the private life of the two nicest as well as wisest people of their age?

So Poppy Pomfrey- ever the Ravenclaw- gathered the Gryffindor courage she didn't even know she possessed and ran over to her cousin's- because despite their outward and inner differences, Poppy Pomfrey and Madam Rosmerta's- officially Rosmerta Pomfrey- fathers had been brothers. Poppy had to talk to Albus. She had to.

She owed it to Minerva.

* * *

"Rosa! Rosa, it's Poppy, open up, please!"

Poppy Pomfrey banged her chubby fist against the ebony wooden door of the Three Broomsticks, anxious to not be seen by any Ministry-related wizard or witch.

"Rosa, come on!"

Sheer moments later, she was quickly dragged inside by an obviously taken aback Rosmerta, her blue eyes big with surprise.

"Poppy, can you stop yelling that hated nickname through the streets of Hogsmeade- or should I start calling you "Pamela" again?"

Shivering at the thought of her way-too-muggle despised real first name, Poppy shook her head, but her own, brown eyes shone with seriousness.

"Rosmerta, I'm sorry, I know you're not open yet, but can I please speak to Albus? I've visited Minerva again today..."

Rosmerta's clear eyes faintly blurred at the mentioning of their mutual friend's name, and with a rather softened facial expression, she beckoned her cousin.

"In my upper chamber- follow me."

As Poppy ascended the broad, steep stairs of the inn behind her cousin, Rosmerta slowly shook her head.

"I've never seen him so sad before- so angry, too. I knew he loved her, I did, I attended their goddamn wedding- but this..."

Poppy nodded, though, and a faint smile formed on her lips as she remember that blissful summer day, about ten years earlier, when Professor Minerva McGonagall had, at least, in secret, become Professor Minerva Dumbledore. Minerva had been so very happy- and Poppy couldn't suppress some tears in her eyes as she inwardly saw her friend as she'd left her some hours earlier. The strange similarity between the white, cotton sheets of the hospital and the feverish redness of Minerva's cheeks, and her long, white wedding dress and the blush of happiness of her wedding day, was almost an irony of nature to her- an irony of life.

"I have never met two other persons in love the way Albus and Minerva are."

"Oh no?"

Despite the situation they were in, a slight giggle escaped Rosmerta's lips.

"What about you and Alastor? You're quite a cute couple yourselves!"

But Poppy remained serious and shook her head, slowly and earnestly.

"It is something different. I adore Alastor, I love him and he loves me, but Albus and Minerva aren't just two people who love each other- they are one. They're always together- they argue, yes, but never... It is something I can't explain. I've been around them for so many years, and even before their marriage there was something between them- a unity, a mutual kindness, an- I know it's a cliché- an electricity. Their eyes link, their hands touch and it's there- not Albus, not Minerva, but the entity Albus-and-Minerva. They don't love- they are love. In its purest, most ancient form- tale as old as time, and yet so different, so unique."

Poppy was out of breath after this short speech, but the tears in her cousin's already watery eyes proved she had succeeded.

"I see- I see, Poppy, I really... I really do."

With this, Rosmerta opened the ebony door, and there, at a small desk, looking all of a sudden at least twenty years older, eyes red and swollen- he'd cried, though he'd never admit it- sat Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore. A man, a wizard- not yet broken but driven right to the edge.

And all of a sudden, Poppy knew it.

She knew it.

This wasn't about Minerva's life, not about the baby's even.

This was about the life of a family.

About Minerva's and the baby's- and about Albus's.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

"Albus..."

When she spoke his name, he looked up. His forehead was more wrinkled than she'd ever seen it- his ever-twinkling blue eyes were watery and weak as he forced a faint smile upon his thin lips. Ever the gentleman, he immediately rose from his chair and made a curt bow.

"Good afternoon, Poppy. How- how are you?"

He had recovered fast enough- but years as a School Nurse had gifted Poppy with the ears of the quickest of cats, and she had immediately noticed his short hesitation. His short hesitation and the faint, yet obviously present sparkle of hope in his nearly-defeated sapphire eyes... It broke her heart when she realized that his question "How are you?" meant rather something like "How is Minerva?"... and not because she felt hurt or anything. Oh no- not at all. Of course Minerva was the first and the last person he thought of now. What bothered her wasn't that- it was the fact that she had to disappoint him, on top of all his other worries.

"I am fine, Albus. Just fine."

He nodded, slowly sinking back onto his chair. His slightly raised eyebrows quickly descended back to their former level, and, with difficulty keeping that sad smile on his face, he nodded, obviously pulling himself together.

"That's good to hear. And Hogwarts? How is the staff- how are the students?"

He was asking her about everyone except the only person he really wanted to hear about, Poppy realized, and she shut him up by covering his shaking, wrinkled hand with her own chubby one.

"Minerva is as alright as is possible in her condition, Albus."

He swallowed and nodded.

"Of course she is- yes, of course. She's a lioness, after all- she'll..."

He didn't finish his sentence. Poppy knew the mighty Headmaster was trying to put on a brave face for Minerva's sake, for the world's sake, but she was a Mediwitch after all. As in her function of Mediwitch she was trained to see when a burden became too much for just one person to carry- and as a Mediwitch as well as a friend she knew she had to break through Albus's façade for his own sake.

"Albus, you don't have to be brave all the time..."

He looked up to her again, and Poppy slowly shook her head at the unspoken question in those deep puddles of sadness. Then, slowly and seemingly calmly, he rested his head on his arms and cried.

It was a strange sight, Poppy realized, as she, unconsciously, bowed over to him and observed him with an almost professional look. Rosmerta, behind her, audibly gasped as she, too, saw what was going on.

Poppy had, in her long career as Mediwitch, seen many people cry- students, teachers, parents- adults and children alike. And, unlike so many others, Albus had always been to her one of those indestructible people, one of those creatures who could carry the weight of the world on their shoulders and still smile, one of those rare wizards who had the uncommon flexibility to live through no matter what, and stay nice, strong and brave.

Now a whole other Dumbledore was shown, and Poppy Pomfrey could hardly oppress a gasp as sudden realization dawned- a realization which few ever reached and many thought impossible.

Albus Dumbledore was human.

Very human, and as he looked up again, she realized that what she had thought previously was wrong. He didn't cry the way all those students, teachers, adults, children, had done through the years.

He didn't cry for himself.

Or in a very special way, yes, perhaps he did. But most of all he cried for Minerva, she knew, and Poppy, too, felt for about the thousandth time the blade called Pity rip her heart apart. It was her friend, her very best friend, who lay there in that hospital bed. That tall, willowy girl with her black braid who Poppy had met during their very first day at Hogwarts had transformed into the formidable woman with her trademark bun, but the inner Minerva, the witch inside, had never changed. And if anyone didn't deserve a fate like Minerva was apparently doomed to, then it was her. She had, through all strictness and sarcasm, always been selflessness itself, courage, kindness, too, for those in desperate need of it.

Was this the fate of the good, then? Minerva was fighting for her life, Poppy knew, but despite her medical knowledge, she was confident. Medics were fine, but the strength of a spirit could do or undo a lot, and if any spirit had ever been strong... Minerva would live- she had to, she just had to!- but the child... Poppy knew she could not be entirely sure, but for herself she had long ago decided that it was sheer impossible that a small, helpless, hardly grown baby could survive something which had rendered the strongest witch of the century into such a dangerous state of unconsciousness. Even if that baby happened to be the product of two such powerful people as the Headmaster and his Deputy were... Everything she'd ever learnt, ever seen, despite her hopes, opposed to such a remarkable survival. It was impossible, and even the mighty Albus Dumbledore would have to bow for Impossibility...

"Albus, she will survive... she will..." she heard her own voice, softly, soothingly, utter before she gently hugged one of the oldest friends she had.

"She will, she'll fight, Albus, she always fights! She won't give up- she'll live. She will live for you, please, please believe me..."

She kept on muttering soft, calming words to him- hardly noticed that her cousin had disappeared from the room. As the door literally slammed open again, though, both she and Albus stared at Rosmerta, who stood in the doorframe, as if she'd gone entirely mad.

Rosmerta's usually blushing face was death pale, her blue eyes big and shocked, her painted lips slightly parted as she uttered

"I- I... someone rang the bell... it's time to open... and my first customers..."

"Who?" Poppy asked, fearing the worst and getting it indeed...

"Fudge and Umbridge."


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

It was strange, Poppy observed, how very slow people's reactions could be when confronted with such a sudden shock. Even Albus, probably the wisest wizard alive and certainly not a slow one, just sat there, gaping at Rosmerta as if he couldn't believe the words that had just escaped her, neatly painted, lips. Then- after what felt like a sheer moment but was in fact quite a few of them- he looked up, as if in slow motion, and balled his, wrinkled yet, so Poppy knew, still powerful fists.

The words he spoke as he got to his feet were accompanied by a fierce twinkle of his sky blue eyes.

"I'll kill them!"

"No you won't!"

But the chubby school nurse found herself being totally ran over by the furious Headmaster, her words completely forgotten in the scraping sound of the chair against the wooden floor. Her cousin; luckily, was both quicker and more determined than she was to stop him, and even Albus had to give up his irate attempts to open the door as she, seemingly dead calm, pulled out her wand and pointed it at him.

"Albus, don't."

Albus was quite literally shaking with anger as he sent her a glare that would have made many a more powerful witch than Rosmerta shriek with fear.

"Rosmerta, listen to me. I don't care about whatever you can do to me- those two down there have hurt my wife and killed the only child I could ever have! I cannot just let them, let me pass!"

The tall, wiry wizard plainly radiated power as he stood before her, blue eyes locking with equally blue ones, fury meeting common sense.

"I'd have you stunned before you could ever open that door, Dumbledore."

He obviously filched at the mere mentioning of the curse that had hit Minerva, and Rosmerta immediately felt sorry, yet she crossed her arms.

"Albus, I am so sorry for you, but just imagine. You kill Fudge and Dolores. Fine. What happens next?"

Both she and Poppy eagerly awaited his answer- but it didn't come, and Rosmerta grimly smiled and nodded.

"Right. You get yourself into Azkaban- or, in the best possible situation, a refugee forever. Minerva awakes. We have to tell her what happened. She's all alone, with a husband she will never meet again. Oh anyway, that is probably the price one pays to VENT ONE'S USELESS ANGER!"

Only there, the fair-haired witch lost her cool, staring furiously into the much taller wizard's eyes. It was a battle of wills, Poppy knew, as she with interest watched the small war fought out before her eyes, and it had every appearance of becoming a hard one.

Yet it was Albus, in the end, who first lowered his eyes as he, with a barely muffled sob, sank down onto his chair again. In a voice barely controlled, he uttered

"Thank you, Rosmerta, I deserved that. You're right. Killing them is no solution. It wouldn't help Minerva anyway- or... or the child. It is hopeless, I know that."

He had spoken those last words very bravely, never averting his gaze from his two companions, but they heard the sadness in his slightly hoarse voice and Poppy's tone was much softer than usual as she, soothingly, rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Minerva will be alright, Albus, I promise you. I know her condition better than you do, and she won't die. Please believe me. I'll..."

She cast Rosmerta a questioning look, but her cousin nodded and faintly smiled.

"I'll go home now, Albus- I'll inquire once more about Minerva's situation and I promise I'll let you know something as soon as possible. Okay?"

Ever-practically, she raised herself to her feet, a gentle smile on her lips as she turned towards the door, where her cousin already impatiently tapped her feet.

"Pops, if I have to get you past Fudge and Dolores at the same time without arousing any suspicions, you'll have to make sure you're quickly downstairs and hurry out, alright?"

Poppy immediately nodded, casting one last glance at her employer.

"Okay. Bye, Albus, don't give up, everything will be okay!"

He responded by a faint twinkle of his sapphire eyes and an appreciative nod.

"Thank you, Poppy. You- you're a real friend, both for Minerva and me."

Poppy gravely nodded, a sad smile on her lips.

"You both more than deserve it, Albus."

With this, she was almost dragged down the steep stairs by her cousin, who looked uncharacteristically serious now. Right before entering the actual inn, Rosmerta turned towards Poppy who, all of a sudden, again felt very strongly that she was the youngest of both cousins.

"Listen, Poppy. For the reputation of my inn as well as Albus and Minerva's happiness, I want you to pretend as well as possible that you're just a school nurse visiting her idiotic cousin, okay? You know what this is about- they cannot suspect anything. Dolores has had two whiskeys, she's slightly drunk and she can thus say rude things about people you like. Don't let anything show."

Poppy indignantly shook her head, brown eyes shooting fire.

"Rosmerta, I am not a child." was her only comment.

But as soon as they entered the actual inn, she very well realized her cousin had not given her such a warning for nothing. Dolores and Fudge were seated at a small table, on a considerable distance from the other customers. A half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey stood between them, and it was obvious who of the two had drunk most of it. Dolores had a heavy blush on her chubby cheeks, while Cornelius just looked terribly embarrassed, and greeted Poppy with a faint, pompous smile.

"Madam Pomfrey, what a surprise to see you here!"

Poppy forced a terribly fake smile on her lips as slightly bowed.

"Hello, Minister. Well, I'm just visiting my cousin, actually- should be getting back to school."

The Minister gave her a curt nod, and she half turned towards the door, glad that she'd escaped so easily- but unfortunately, as usual, Dolores chose exactly the wrong moment to open her already too big mouth.

"Poppy! Join us, my dear, after all I think you do hiccup deserve better company than the hiccup old Gryffindor bitch, don't you?"

With a royal gesture, she poured out a small glass of whiskey for the Mediwitch too, but Poppy declined- still rather politely. Until "Professor Umbridge" showed off all her yellow teeth in one of her those typical, disgusting smiles.

"Yeah well, after all Mrs. Mugwump didn't do much more with her life than screwing the old guy, didn't she? Well she doesn't have the looks but I do admit she must have had some abilities... unfortunately for her, magic wasn't one of them!"

Poppy felt the blood thrumming inside of her veins. She'd never been a quick tempered one, true, but this woman was implying... was saying... As she felt her balled fists shiver, she knew she had to go quickly, or otherwise...

The Minister obviously noticed that too, for he cast a worried look at Dolores and muttered

"Perhaps, Miss Umbridge, you have had just a little too much whiskey? I suggest you order a glass of water next..."

But Dolores just laughed.

"Cornelius, I am not drunk! I know what I'm saying- the rigid cat's finally got what she deserved. I'd like to bring out..."

She raised her magically re-filled glass.

"...a Toast to Minerva McGonagall, the only female cat who can be called a bitch as well!"

The next sound that broke the shocked silence in the inn was the one Poppy created as she threw the door closed behind her. She could hardly believe what she'd just heard.  
She could hardly believe that a man who couldn't even control his own staff was in charge of the wizarding world.

But unfortunately, it was true.

As Poppy arrived in her familiar quarters at Hogwarts again, she had every intention of writing an immediate letter to the Healers of St. Mungo's, but one simple thing stopped her. It was a note, a very small note, scribbled on the yellowish parchment by a Healer-in-Training both she and Minerva knew very well.

"Dear Madam Pomfrey,

Professor McGonagall has regained consciousness- they want to keep it a secret, but I thought you'd like to know.

Sincerely,  
Mona Tonks"

Poppy almost smiled as she read the name of the twenty-year-old she'd known as a student for seven years. Despite her elder sister's Auror ambitions, the younger Tonks, by the name of Desdemona, had opted for a medical career in the end.

But she'd remained faithful.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

Poppy didn't think she'd ever gone out without grabbing at least a cloak with her before, but catching a cold all of a sudden didn't seem that much of a nuisance anymore. Minerva was awake again. Minerva had opened her eyes again. Minerva could talk and walk again. Minerva, now without a doubt named the strongest witch of her age. Minerva the brave. Minerva the courageous.

Minerva, the witch who'd been bearing a child and had lost it again without even realizing it.

As Poppy's feet touched the clean, white material of the floor of the Entrance Hall of St. Mungo's, she urgently bit her lips to keep the tears from appearing in her eyes. It was strange, actually. She was a Mediwitch, and she'd always learnt not to get emotional over a patient's condition- not just for her own good, but also for that of the patient and his or her family members. That had been almost thrust into her head

from the first moment on, when that young, timid, sentimental eighteen-year old Miss Pomfrey had entered the medical training course of St Mungo's Hosptiral.

And here she stood now, years and years and years and years later, in that same Entrance Hall, with tears in her eyes and pain in her smile.

"Minerva McGonagall, please?" she asked the nearest Healer she saw. No time for queuing up- and after all, her face and reputation were not unknown in the medical world.

"Third floor, Magical Recoveries, room 308." the obviously impressed young witch muttered, pointing at the large board at the wall.

Poppy nodded and apparated within a blink of the other Mediwitch's eye.

Minerva's room was the first one on the right, and as soon as Poppy stepped inside, she was touched at what she saw. Minerva was obviously no longer in a coma- her breathing was even and her eyelids trembling, but she'd fallen asleep and the peaceful expression on the pale face, surrounded by the deep, black waves of what was the great Deputy Headmistress's hair made Poppy wonder how on earth she'd ever be able to tell her best friend what she so desperately needed to tell.

Deciding to patiently wait until her friend awoke from her so desperately needed rest, Poppy sank down into the only chair in the room and grabbed the Daily Prophet on the bedside table.

Sheer minutes later, the Mediwitch's eyelids dropped, and so did the newspaper.

The next thing Poppy saw, were two big, brown, concerned eyes staring at her in almost-fascination. It were the eyes of a young girl- perhaps nineteen years of age- wearing the characteristic, light blue robes of a Healer-In-Training.

"Madamâ umâ Madam Pomfrey, are you awake?"

It was such a silly question to ask, especially since her eyes were already open, and that accompanied by the so familiar, honey brown eyes of the girl convinced Poppy that this was indeed the person she thought it to be. She smiled.

"Yes, Desdemona, I am."

Whether the painful expression on Mona's face was caused by this casual mentioning of her full first name or by the large clipboard she'd just dropped on her toe- that Poppy could not say, but Mona smiled nonetheless and nodded towards the bed.

"Professor McGonagall is still asleep, but I think she can wake up any moment. It's past eight o'clock in the morning already."

This was, at first sight, perhaps a strange statement to make, but Poppy remembered this girl had been still a Hogwarts student less than two years ago, and thus Mona, like all Gryffindors, had probably known the rising-with-the-sun habit of her Head of House.  
And the sun, Poppy acknowledged as she narrowed her eyes to protect them from the heavy light, definitely was out and about already.

But apparently Mona had prophesized right, because sheer minutes later, as Poppy stretched her sore arms and silently scolded herself for falling asleep sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair, Minerva did open her eyes.

Angry dark green immediately turned into the merry green of freshly cut grass as she recognized the figure sitting in the chair next to her bed, and yet the first thing she uttered wasn't exactly a declaration of friendship.

"A bucket! Quick!"

Mona Tonks immediately jumped into action, throwing over the bedside table and almost breaking off the closet door in the process, but it was, despite everything, still Poppy's practical "Accio bucket!" which had the desired effect.

Holding back Minerva's hair as she was throwing up whatever was left in her practically empty stomach, Poppy soothingly stroked the other woman's back.

"It's okay, Minerva- it's okay"

Minerva fell back into the cushions with a grim smile on her still deathly pale face.

"No, it's not okayâ Poppy, I am lying here, and where's the woman who did this to meâ to Hogwarts, even? Answer; she's free to go wherever she wants- free to ruin the school Albus and I- and you too!- dedicated our entire lives to!"

After another short bucket-interference, Poppy sighed, hardly daring to look Minerva in the eye.

"I know, Minerva. I do know it."

Because oh yes, how did she know it.

More even than Minerva herself did.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

"No, really, Poppy, what am I still doing here? I should be at Hogwarts now, preventing that- that... "

Minerva's voice slightly shook as she carefully pronounced the so hated name.

"... that Umbridge woman from destroying the only things I have ever fought for- Hogwarts and Albus."

Her pale, thinner than ever hands rested on the edge of the white sheets, folding and unfolding them at a high, nervous speed as she spoke out the name of her husband.

Poppy lowered her eyes at this sudden showing of what little weakness was present in the indestructible constitution of the Deputy Headmistress. Minerva's nausea had passed along with the day, and the Mediwitch very well realized that she couldn't keep... the secret... a secret for much longer. She had, for a moment, pondered on whether or not to tell Minerva about it, but almost immediately she had realized that the strong witch herself would want to know it, no matter how painful the consequences.

"Where is Albus, Poppy?"

The question didn't come unexpected, and yet it surprised Poppy. In a Mona-Tonks-way, she dropped the book she had been trying to read during the past hours, when Minerva had rested in her much needed sleep. She had sensed her thoughts wandering, though, towards the moment that would, of that there was no doubt, certainly come.

And that moment, she knew, was now.

"He's at The Three Broomsticks, Min, Rosmerta's put her old spare room to use one more time. He's safe. But... but there is something more that you need to know."

It was now or never, she knew, as she noticed Minerva inquiring, bright green glance examining her face in wonder. Slowly, her friend's thin lips formed words.

"Poppy, tell me. What has the old toad managed to destroy more? I know it's about her- you have that typical, frightened look in your eyes. I know you too well, Poppy. Tell me..."

As two chubby hands gently enfolded one thin one, Minerva's heart pace quickened.

"Minerva," her friend softly began, but the tears in her eyes and voice told Minerva that she had to be afraid. Very afraid.

"I don't know how to say this- whether to say this..."

"Please do."

Minerva's eyes were dry, but her gaze begged and Poppy cleared her throat.

"Minerva, when Dolores gave the order to Stun you, she didn't only manage to ruin your health. She also- she killed..."

Poppy softly sobbed- not daring to look her friend into the eye anymore.

"She killed whom?"

Minerva's voice sounded uncharacteristically hoarse and high-pitched, as her fingernails pushed deep into the soft flesh of her friend and colleague's hands.

"She killed your baby, Minerva. You were pregnant."

Poppy couldn't keep her hot, helpless tears from falling down her cheeks as Minerva's parted lips silently formed an almost invisible "o". It was totally overshadowed, though, by the expression in her eyes. Poppy had lived through more than fifty years standing beside Minerva- first as fellow students, then as colleagues- but never, never had those misty emeralds Minerva totally not doing them justice called "her eyes" shone with such primal, ancient pain as on that very moment.

It was the pain woman through ages and ages had felt at the only news that could break, really break- naturally strong creatures as they were- their hearts.

It was the pain of a woman who had finally, finally received and immediately lost again.

Yet when those trembling, seemingly helpless lips, moments later, did form words, it was Poppy's jaw's turn to drop. She did truly, honestly not know what exactly she had expected her friend to say, but even her ready, comforting arms froze at the sentence which, finally, left Minerva's mouth and mind.

"It's not true!"

Recovering from the first surprise, Poppy soundlessly sighed. It was nothing for Minerva to deny what was so obviously the truth- but perhaps practically and bravely facing the facts every single time was too much for even the courageous Deputy Headmistress on the bed before her.

"Minerva, I understand what you..."

But one fierce gesture cut off her words, and Poppy knew better than to utter one more word when her best friend's eyes held that expression. Minerva's next movement, though, was everything except what Poppy had expected.

The proud Deputy Headmistress just pulled the sheets up to her chin and turned her back to her friend.

"I am pregnant, Poppy. I am."

Poppy sighed once more as she rested a cool, soothing hand on Minerva's obviously tense shoulder. A short shiver was the only reply she got, until, with a small sob, three more, obstinate yet in a way also powerful words left the Transfiguration Professor's clenched together lips.

"I am pregnant."

And Minerva just covered her ears with her pillow, and slept.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

It was not long until Poppy's eyelids, too, dropped and she fell asleep on the chair she'd been sitting in, one compassionate friend still resting on her sleeping friend's back. Minerva slept a relatively peaceful sleep, rolled up into a ball, arms wrapped around her stomach under the sheets. A calm, but stubborn expression graced her still beautiful face as her chest rhythmically moved along with her steady breath.

But the redness of her eyes along with the bitter line of her clenched together lips told a wholly different story than the almost serene sight of her moonlight-lit face, half-covered by the long, blackish hair.

Poppy was awoken by the first ray of sun, very early in the morning, and as she, still half asleep, picked up her book from its familiar place on the ground, she was touched by the sight of her friend. She'd seen Minerva sleep many times before, in the best and the worst of circumstances, but never had the usually so unreadable facial expression of the Deputy Headmistress been so clear as it was on that very moment.

Lovingly, like a mother would do for her newborn child, Poppy found herself pulling up the sheets a bit higher, till Minerva's rolled up body was neatly covered up to her chin.

"Oh Minerva, how can I ever make this easier to bear for you?"

Her question had come out more as a sigh than as a proper sentence, and she stared down at her feet while outing it- which caused her to almost jump up in surprise as, with a short cough, Minerva's slightly hoarse voice silently replied

"There is nothing to make easier to bear, Poppy. I am with child. I know I am."

It was not so much the determined tone these words were spoken in as the confident glimmer in her friend's bright green eyes that bothered Poppy. It worried her. She'd seen many cases of unconscious self-deception in patients of hers, and she was too experienced a Mediwitch to not realize that it were the stubborn, strong-headed ones, like Minerva, who were in the greatest danger.

She knew what she had to do, she knew what would, probably, bring Minerva "back to earth" in no time- but she, frankly, dreaded doing it. Yet, as she got to her feet and placed her hands on her sides, she knew she had to.

"Minerva Caitriona McGonagall, listen very well to me..."

She felt the anger in her own voice- heard it- but she knew very well it wasn't real anger, fury, which she felt. Sadness, it was. Pity, indeed. But never anger.

And yet she had to be harsh with her friend now.

"You are not pregnant. You were, but your child is dead. Dead, Minerva! Dead, dead, dead!"

She felt hot tears in her eyes and on her cheeks as she kept repeating this word, but what, perhaps, pained her the most was the totally indifferent expression in Minerva's now dull, misty green eyes.

"Minerva, you are not pregnant anymore! Whatever has gotten into you? You don't carry a child, Min, and I don't think you ever will. It's cruel, but it's the truth and TAKE THAT SMILE OFF YOUR FACE!"

For indeed Minerva smiled- a strange, unearthly smile- as she simply shrugged her shoulders. There was a playful hint in her eyes as she merely pronounced

"I am pregnant, Poppy. I would know if it weren't true, wouldn't I?"

This was combined by such a suddenly sharp, poignant stare from the mysterious green eyes that had always been Minerva's most prominent feature. It was such an abrupt return to her previous self, that Poppy had to admit it did startle her a bit. She quickly found the words again, though, and as she shook her head she muttered

"No, you wouldn't. Not if you were going mad."

But Minerva had already turned her back to her friend, and snuggling warmly under the thick hospital sheets, her even, rhythmic breathing made Poppy shut up. Every word she spoke now was useless anyway. Minerva had almost... hexed herself to sleep, or so it seemed. Poppy, as an experienced Mediwitch, knew when someone wasn't really asleep, and the strange thing was- Minerva wasn't faking.

Resting a hand on her friend's arched back, Poppy sighed.

"Minerva, Minerva, what are you doing now? Have you then really gone mad? But I cannot believe that... or..."

To her own irritation, she felt her gaze dwell through the room, looking for and finding her dark red leather doctor's bag. As if she could look right through the thick material, she knew what was inside of it. Only one of those many things did she think of, though.

Moments later, as her chubby hand closed around what was a small vial of a transparent liquid, she could only scold herself for her folly. All her medical knowledge told her how useless this was, and yet she couldn't possibly keep herself from it.

As her fingers slowly dropped one of the long, black hairs she'd picked off her friend's head inside of the vial, she closed her eyes for a moment.

As she opened them again, a few minutes later, her lips opened and slowly, leisurely formed one single word.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

"Impossible!"

For a few moments she stood there, the all of a sudden coloured vial in her hands, brown eyes big and filled with an almost unearthly surprise. She felt her heart beat rapidly inside of her chest, and somehow, the even, almost enchanting rhythm somehow got her back to her senses, because immediately, careful not to wake the sleeping form of her best friend, Poppy hastened out of the room.

Only ten minutes later, she entered again, still flustered and trembling, careful not to drop the vial on the floor, but with a very broad, happy smile fixed on her face. Softly stroking some dark black locks away from her friend's quiet, sleeping face. She did note- to her great surprise- some tear stains on the pale cheeks, and she gently smiled as she shook her head.

"This was the very first time I doubted you, Min, and again you've proven me wrong."

With this, she took her usual place again, beside her friend, now and then casting an affectionate glance at her sleeping form. She should have known, after all. Minerva McGonagall wasn't the one for self-deceit, and she'd seen enough of her friend's character during the past fifty years to know very well that Minerva could be almost inhumanly harsh towards herself. But she had always had another trait, too.

She valued the truth above everything.

It didn't take Minerva very long to wake up from her short nap again. The first thing her barely awake eyes noticed as they fluttered open, though, were the couple of honestly delighted brown eyes of her best friend, and instinctively, a smile curled Minerva's lips. She knew everything was alright.

"Pops..."

Her voice had, all of a sudden, gone weak again. The loud discussion so early in the morning had obviously fatigued her, but she was smiling, through the still begging look in her eyes.

"Is it really true, Pops? I- I started to... I started to doubt myself. I dreamt- I dreamt that I had gone insane. I-"

Poppy arrived right in time with the bucket, this time, but a smile graced her lips as she held her friend's thick, black hair back as Minerva threw up. She almost cursed herself, though, because she had refused to understand the meaning of Minerva's earlier sickness. The facts once again showed her that even an experienced Mediwitch can still make serious mistakes. And that the feelings of a mother-to-be sometimes proved more reliable than simple, hard knowledge.

And that miracles can happen.

For it was a miracle, that even Poppy had to admit, she looked down on Minerva, who now rested her weary head back against the cushions- sheets and face equally pale. Not the pregnancy itself- oh, no, during her long career, Poppy had seen women much older than Minerva give birth to healthy children. Seventy wasn't as old for a witch as if perhaps appeared to be for a muggle woman. Minerva had- being a muggleborn witch- never believed this herself, but Poppy knew it was true. Minerva had just reached middle age, nothing exceptional there.

It was the fact that the child had survived the unintentional, yet rather fierce attack on his or her young life that astonished Poppy. The only explanation she could think of, was that all four of the Stunners had as if by magic missed Minerva's abdomen- but even that was a strange thing, since then, the hexes would have hit Minerva's heart and even a strong witch like her would never have survived that.

Unless it was true.

Unless a miracle had really happened, and deep in her heart, even rational, clear-headed Poppy wanted to believe that that was true. It would mean that there was still justice in the corrupted world they lived in, and that was, despite everything, a beautiful thing to believe in.

"Minerva, you have been really lucky, you know that?"

Minerva nodded, badly concealed tears in her green eyes but a very happy smile on her face. It was one of her typical attitudes of "strength", but at the same time, it gave away every emotion she felt. Well, every...

All she felt was happiness at the moment, and Poppy knew it, softly squeezing her friend's hand.

"I know, Poppy. I know. Believe me, I do know. I just hope Albus can make it to here soon. I cannot wait to tell him."

Only as Minerva's eyes had contently closed already, Poppy remembered.

Albus.

The letter.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

Poppy closed her book as somewhere in the hospital, a clock struck three. She felt in her cheeks the irritating pain of a suppressed yawn- then simply obeyed her body and yawned. Stretching out her chubby arms, she realized she felt terribly drowsy, and shrugged her shoulders. She'd waited up half of the night- simply so she could tell Albus the happy news should he arrive. It was stupid, of course. He hadn't arrived any of the previous nights- and if the man had any common sense left in his body, he'd probably not arrive this night, too... And she was so very tired.

Yes, perhaps it was true what Mona Tonks had said as she'd popped in around eight o'clock- right before the end of her shift. Perhaps Poppy should just for once use the bed that had been made for her in the next room, and have a good night's rest. She'd been awake for nearly two full days now, and honestly, nurse or not, one did start to get tired. A smile graced her lips as soon as her head hit the pillow.

So when, sheer moments later, a wrinkled, thin hand softly- careful not to make too much noise- pushed open the dark wooden door of the hospital room, Poppy simply went on sleeping in the other room, unknowing of the man who'd just entered her friend's chamber. For it was true.

Albus Dumbledore was standing in the door-opening of his wife's hospital room.

His back more arched than ever, pale, parchment-like cheeks stained by silent tears- yes, the proud Headmaster was looking older than ever, and no, he didn't look as if he cared in the least.

He'd escaped Rosmerta's all-seeing eye just half an hour earlier- she'd forbidden him to leave the pub, and honestly, he hadn't exactly felt like leaving after the first anger and sadness had subsided. He had felt empty like never before- and the reason of his emptiness lay- or better, did not lie- in the bed before him.

The form beneath the sheets slightly stirred as he stepped closer- but she did not wake up, for which he was very grateful. Her tall, cat-like figure was curled up into a ball, and he couldn't but notice faint tear-stains on her sleep-flustered cheeks.

"Oh Minerva, I am so sorry for you."

This was not entirely true, for if he was honest with himself, he had to say he was sorry for both of them, for them as a couple- and most of all, for the unborn child that both of them would have loved more than life itself.

But it was too late, he reminded himself as he silently sat down beside her, on the bed. Softly stroking her arched back, he almost smiled, were it not for the tears in his eyes. She stirred again beneath his hand, and as he pressed a soft kiss against her forehead, he felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks

If only.

If only he'd been there, on that horrible night- if only he'd not make the Minister try to arrest him. If only he'd been more careful- if only he'd listened to her and let her go with him.

If only he had been a better husband.

He didn't deserve her, he never had- he'd known that from the very start of their relationship onwards. He wouldn't have been angry at her had she left him- him, who was always busy with the school or the Ministry, with Voldemort and the Order. He, who despite his obvious love, adoration, for her, had always had so much to worry about... But she had not left.

She'd been there for him, instead.

Always- when he'd thought he would lose it, she'd been there to lean on. When both of them cried, she was the one to suppress her tears and wipe his tears away; When both of them were scared, it was not him, brave, great Albus Dumbledore who'd comforted her, but the other way round. She'd held him, soothed him, and never ever had she so much as asked for one world of thanks.

And now she'd lost what she wanted the most- because of him.

He was crying as he wrapped his arms closely around her sleeping form, and hid his face in her hair as quiet sobs kept escaping her throat.

"Minerva, I am sorry. I am so sorry, you know that, darling? For everything- for this blasted life, for all that I could not offer you... for the pain I caused you, and the tears... and... and for the child that never lived..."

He pulled her even closer still, shaking his head in anguish.

"I understand if you'd leave me, Min. Please know that. But I love you. I do love you, Minerva."

His surprise couldn't have been greater as a all of a sudden, the form he held hugged so closely against him turned around, and a sleepy, hoarse but honest voice was heard.

"And I love you, Albus. Forever and for always, as our wedding vows said."

Unable to speak, he helplessly smiled and nodded his head- but the tears in his eyes were painfully obvious, and noticing them, Minerva smiled as she tenderly, slowly, kissed his lips.

"Don't cry anymore, my only one."

And with this, she merely grabbed his shaking hand and let it down again to rest on her own stomach. He stared at her non-understandingly- only to read, in her very eyes, the epitome of love bound with the very essence of pride, and even before his long, wiry fingers felt the slight swelling right under her heart, he knew.

He didn't know how to express the stream of joy suddenly rushing through his veins- so he did the only think he possibly could do.

He kissed her.

And everything was fine.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

And yet not even a month later, a very angry Minerva McGonagall stood arms crossed in front of her husband. The frown on her face was enough to make any man wince, and even Albus Dumbledore slightly flinched.

"Min, come on, you need rest, and..."

"And that means I'll have to stay at Hogwarts all summer? Practically on my own? While you're staying at Grimmauld Place?"

She was almost shaking in fury, and Albus grabbed her upper arms and squeezed them.

"Calm down, Min- the baby..."

"THE BABY? WHAT ABOUT THE BABY? I AM NOT CALM AND NOR WILL I..."

She winced with those last words, and lowering her voice a bit continued

"Albus, I am going with you, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about that!"

Naturally, it was she who won, like she always won. What she couldn't get by stubbornness, she bought with a simple smile. And Albus knew he was powerless when she smiled.

So another three days later, he found himself sitting at the head of the long table in the living room of the Headquarters of Grimmauld Place. After a short memorial service of the man who was and would always stay their host, he had welcomed Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron and Ginny Weasley as new members. The scowl on Molly's face was unmistakeable, but even the somewhat over-protective mother had realized in the end that keeping information from the four young adults was no solution and had, though reluctantly, agreed.

Minerva, sitting professionally as always next to her husband, taking notes, hair in the usual tight bun, was secretly glad she had. Sometimes, she thought she knew the four youngsters better than Molly did. To Molly, the kids would always stay just that; kids, her babies, who should be guarded from all evil in the world.

Minerva had long ago realized that it wasn't all that simple.

Her trail of thoughts was interrupted, though, by a short line which made her cheeks go bright red.

"And now, I think me and Minerva have a small announcement to make..."

He looked at her as if asking for consent, and she nodded despite herself. They'd agreed on telling at least the order, their closest friends, and even though Severus Snape was in the room, she knew they had to do it.

"Yes, indeed I believe we do."

She looked up at him and smiled, her hand resting on her slightly swollen belly as she nodded again.

"Well, basically," Albus began, grinning in a very- sheepish way indeed.

"Basically I wanted to let all of you know, that in a few months, the population of Hogwarts will be extended with one."

"Oh bloody hell, not a second Umbridge!"

Ronald Weasley grew beet red as all heads in the room turned towards him, and Minerva inwardly smiled. After all, the boy had simply voiced what they were all thinking. That Albus was speaking about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who would certainly come- and Severus's facial expression surely proved that the Potions Master, too, had immediately thought of that possibility.

But Albus chuckled and shook his head.

"No, my dear friends, I am speaking of a much happier occasion than that. I am speaking of the fact that I invite you all to congratulate me on the occasion of being an expectant father."

It was, Minerva noticed with a slight bit of amusement, as if all people in the room had been stunned- bad joke, Minerva, and that from you!- and as if they were expecting an unknown, heavily pregnant woman to drop from the ceiling every minute.

The amusement very quickly turned to embarrassment, though, as she felt some eyes rest on her as well, and her cheeks flushed scarlet as she silently nodded, not hiding her smile, for once. Albus threw his arm around her and nodded.

"And I suggest you congratulate the mother-to-be as well."

Ron Weasley's facial expression, Minerva must admit as she was pulled into a rather wild hug by the boy's mother, was priceless. More flustered than ever, he sat there- eyes fixed on her as if noticing she was a woman as well for the very first time in the sixteen years that had formed his life. Which was probably true, after all. Hermione Granger, next to him, was grinning broadly and Minerva thought she heard a faint whisper of "I knew it." coming from her lips. Severus could be seen covering his face with his hands, muttering "So that's why they keep winning that House Cup!" between his teeth. Harry Potter grinned rather awkwardly, and next to him, Nymphadora Tonks was getting to her feet, undoubtedly to pull her ex-teacher into a clumsy hug as well.

And yet is was Ronald Weasley who, moments later, after having recovered from his shock enough to speak again, got the last word.

"Oh bloody- bloody- bloody- bloody hell!"


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen**

The two next, Summer months passed in considerable peace. The Dark Lord kept unusually quiet- and though Albus thought it his task to warn the people around him, especially the Order, that this was not a good sign, he secretly was glad about it too. His wife now started the second term of her pregnancy- and though he couldn't but adore the slight swelling her belly started to show, she herself was highly irritated by it. Having been a rather thin woman all her life, she was used to slipping through about everything without the slightest hindrance, but now, she actually had to ask people to shove their chairs aside a bit when she wanted to take her place at the breakfast table. And what frustrated her even more- those people obeyed immediately, even pulling back her chair for her. And okay- she'd gotten used to Albus doing that- strange kind of eccentric gentleman he was!- but those well-meant gestures, along with the worried inquiries after her health, gave her a highly uncomfortable feeling. She'd always been independent- on her own, strong and not needing anyone for anything, just like the tabby she was.

And now it had all changed; She was delighted about the child she would give birth to- a little Albus or, as her husband kept on declaring, a mini-Minerva. She did enjoy the even more than usual tender attentions of her husband- the way he asked her how she felt, half way during meetings, the way she could rest her head against his shoulder as she read, late at night- the way she could finally sit next to him and didn't have to suppress her urge to just hold his hand at times. Yes, she thought all those things somewhat silly too- but they were so completely Albus that she couldn't but love them.

Less agreeable- but oh so predictable as well, naturally...- were Molly's various attempts to make her take a bit of rest, especially in the early hours of the afternoon. She had apparently problems with Minerva's total hate of resting during daylight hours- but she couldn't change it, as she after a few weeks realized and finally gave up. It was true- Minerva's always never seen the point in lying down while the sun was still out and about. Even as a child, when she'd felt ill, she'd rather sit up in the sofa with a book, and at least pretend to read. Even when the letters danced in front of her eyes, that thin girl with her black hair and her glasses wouldn't show weakness, would never show weakness.

And for some reason, neither would the middle-aged woman, still with the black hair and still with the glasses do so.

And yet she knew that it would be hard- very hard- nearly impossible- to keep her and the Headmaster's relationship a secret once they'd returned at Hogwarts. September 1st was coming dangerously close, and the Deputy Headmistress found herself not being able- and not wanting either!- to hide the obvious bulge in her robes- there where the little old coot, as she had lovingly nicknamed her son or daughter, had made itself a nest. So the only solution was, naturally, to tell the whole school. And for some reason, she was convinced that her husband would have his doubts about that- and now she could be highly convincing if she wanted to, but still.

The right question on the right time was highly important now, she knew- and though she was a Gryffindor to the core, Minerva Caitríona McGonagall could be a damn sly little cat if she wanted to. This mental remark of herself made Minerva grin.

Oh damn yes- she could.

The right time came sooner than she'd thought it'd come. As they were both sitting on the couch in their private rooms, her head leaning cosily against his shoulder, both reading in the same book- Pride and Prejudice, the favourite of both of them- Minerva knew that it was now or never.

"Albus?"

She didn't even remove her head from his shoulder- she was way too comfortable there, one of her various cat-like traits.

"Mmh... yes, my dear?"

"Can we tell the school?"

She knew this was most probably the wrong approach- not very Slytherin of you, Minerva, she reproached herself- but she didn't feel like concealing the truth. After all, this was what she'd wanted to ask all along, and she looked up at him, eyes nearly pleading as she awaited his answer. He simply sighed and looked back at her.

"Minerva, you know that's dangerous, and..."

Oh if only he'd known- if only he'd seen that pregnancy hormones accompanied by her already infamous Scottish temper were no pretty combination.

She sat up and stared at him, cat-like eyes greener than ever, her lips clenched tightly together yet still producing a highly satisfactory amount of sound.

"Albus Dumbledore, if you think that I'm going to use optical illusion magic on ALL MY STUDENTS, then you're mistaken! I want to look at my husband in public and NOT BE afraid that I will give away something! I want to hold my child when it's born and receive my Gryffindors as visitors. I WANT TO BE ABLE TO BLOODY SNOG YOU IN PUBLIC!"

She'd stood up whilst exclaiming this last sentence- and was honestly completely unprepared for her husband's hands dragging her onto his lap, pulling her into what was and felt like a highly acceptable snog indeed!

Surprised beyond reason and terribly flustered, Minerva found herself five minutes later gasping for breath, staring incredulously into her husband's bright blue eyes as he simply smiled at her and shrugged his shoulders.

"You don't know how adorable you looked, my dear."

That was the last sentence spoken for a long, long time.

But Minerva knew she'd won.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter Seventeen**

"But now, after welcoming you all to another year at our beloved Hogwarts, I'd like to announce something."

Minerva only realized what this "announcement" would be, when Severus Snape's clearly audible groan reached her ears- and immediately, she bit her lips, praying God and all Saints she knew that her cheeks would not turn that familiar, terribly red colour embarrassment always seemed to cause in them. Yes, she was nervous. Though all this had been her own doing and her own wish, she had seen the wondering looks towards the Head Table as not she, but Sylvia Sprout had for once led the Sorting Ceremony. Minerva's belly had become terribly obvious in the meantime- and she had not wanted to give away her and Albus's secret this easily. So she had told her husband to simply announce it, the way he had announced so many things during their shared years at Hogwarts.

"I wanted to announce that I am to be a father next December, and I expect congratulations now!"

This very typical line was accompanied by an indeed highly typically "Albus" smile, and Minerva rolled her eyes. Well alright, so he had managed to shock half of the student body to death. Great. Subtle, Albus- very subtle indeed.

And yet there were a few among the mass of kids in front of her, mostly girls, who were apparently adding up one and one and wondering whether "two" could really be the solution. "Professor McGonagall does not lead the Sorting Ceremony" plus "Professor Dumbledore is to be a father" equals... The impossible, Minerva completed their sentence with an inward smile.

That smile disappeared very, very quickly, though, as she felt a firm tug at her left arm- and before she knew it, she was standing up, cheeks more than terribly... horribly red and an uncharacteristically weak smile on her face. Albus's arm rested loosely around her waist- and the students' look were absolutely hilarious. She actually might have laughed- a little- if she had not felt totally, utterly and absolutely embarrassed- and her husband was not really helping.

"For yes indeed, my beautiful wife is an expectant mother. You can congratulate her, too!"

And though it was, somewhat, in a way, a beautiful gesture and exactly what she had wanted to happen, it also was one of those few things on earth which could still make proud, rigid Minerva McGonagall's pale cheeks burn as if she were still that skinny teenager, desperately in love with her teacher.

Her belly was more than obvious now, exposed to the whole of the inhabitants of Hogwarts- and the worst thing was, she could not but smile sheepishly. What had happened to the raising-her-eyebrows? To the clearing-her-throat? To the frowns?

For even as the baby kicked her, hard- a new habit of his or hers- she could not but smile, though inwardly she was mumbling something very close to "It are always the innocent who suffer!".

Then, the incredible happened.

She had counted on horrified faces, on squicked teenagers, on big, big eyes and dropping jaws- and on nothing more. And yet she received more. A whole lot more.

It was Hermione who had started it- but that was not what surprised her beyond reason. What surprised her, was the mere fact that other people were actually joining her. And kept on joining her. When even Severus Snape rolled his eyes and made a faint gesture with his hands, the silly smile she'd had fixed on her face for what felt like ages was blurred by tears- for the very first time in her life, Minerva Caitríona McGonagall was crying in public and she did not even care.

They were applauding. All of them. Even the Slytherins. Some of them, at least, but she did not care about the few who rolled their eyes and rigidly stared at her in disgust. Even if Voldemort himself were to enter the Great Hall now- she'd still be happy. She did not wholly understand the rollercoaster of feelings she was going through, and all of a sudden, the strangest thing happened.

For once, she did not feel the need to understand. Feeling it was enough- more than enough- and even when Albus softly pressed his lips against hers in what apparently was the custom kiss at occasions like this, the look she sent his way was more of an "I'll slap you!" than an "I"ll kill you!" one.

Yes, Minerva pondered, blushing and bowing and being completely out of character- yes, it was a strange day indeed...

The lemon drops all of a sudden raining out of the Great Hall Ceiling proved her statement entirely correct...


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Chapter Eighteen**

"_Minerva, you need rest, you're not exactly twenty anymore!"_

The black-haired witch with her piercing green eyes groaned out loud as those well-meant and yet nothing less than irritating words kept on echoing and echoing through her already too full head. Leaning back against the dark-red pillows of the couch in her private sitting room, she mentally counted the seconds ticking away on the cuckoo clock against the wall- a once present from her husband.

Rest. Four letters, merely four of them, and yet much, much more incomprehensible to her than a line like, for example, "Yule Ball preparations". Or "duty". Or "correcting essays".

She could not believe she had really promised her husband to actually take a few hours of rest and to even eat her dinner inside of the secluded, terribly peaceful space that was their shared private rooms. Half an hour had passed and she already hated it.

She appreciated both Albus's and Poppy's worry about her, but honestly, it was not as if she was over a century of age. Witches of one hundred and ten years of age had carried and given birth to healthy kids- so was there any reason to assume that she, their junior with four decades, would not?

Well of course there was, but Minerva did not want to think about that anymore. After the Stunners and her two months of well-deserved rest, Minerva had, of course, started teaching again in September as she had always planned to. She had been four months pregnant by then, and everything had seemed to be alright- until, with six months, during the beginning of November, she had awoken one morning with terrible cramps in her lower stomach- almost as if the child was about to be born. Of course it had been way too early and, as Poppy had told her after the danger had quite left again, it had been a very close run. Apparently the shock of the four Stunners on her body still had some after-effects after all- and very nearly she had lost her child, so shortly after she had gained it.

But even though this had shocked Minerva beyond reason, she still was convinced that it would not happen again. After all she had never felt so much as one cramp again during the previous two months- and more important, her little girl or boy had started kicking- hard. Quite an aggressive little Scot, Albus had jokingly said, and Minerva had merely grinned. _He_ thought it very amusing, of course- for _he _was not the one whose bowels were being squeezed by their son or daughter, _he _was not the one people were worrying about all day- _he _was not the one random pupils and teachers stared at as if she could drop dead every single second.

Now she did not really care about the first thing, of course- at least it gave her the reassurance she had desperately, yet in secret, craved for. But the last two things- well, she simply did not know how to handle them. She was a cat, what could be expected of her? Though cats liked comfort and a good home, they also wanted to be free, to roam the streets on their own and though they liked to be petted, they did not want to be looked after as if they, and not the one inside of them, were an unborn baby!

Another, frustrated sigh escaped her clenched together lips as she heard a student passing her door hum a cheerful Christmas carol. "Angels We Have Heard On High", even- one of her all time favourites. She smiled as she remembered how, during her years at Hogwarts, she had always been the only one able to sing the whole chorus line in one, long breath- as it had to be sung.

It had been her way to prove that she, Minerva, top student, was more than just a piece of walking brains, and she had always loved the Christmas period ever since.

And here she lay now, on the couch, swollen, emerald-clad belly carefully covered by one of her own, tartan blankets. She almost knew the book she was holding by heart, and she had sternly been told not to take up another one, because, and she quoted literally "When you finish that one, you should take a nap, Minerva! Reading is fatiguing too, you know!"

She had rolled her eyes, in the end used them to shoot fire- but it was a fact that her beloved Albus did act rather- cute- when he was fussing over her. Minerva sighed as she sat straight up, corners of her mouth twitching as the son or daughter inside of her showed its kicking abilities once more.

Two more months. Two more months and she would finally, finally be able to hold her little, already adored baby in her arms- two more months and she and Albus would finally be able to proudly present to the world- Albus or Minerva Junior, also known as Their Child.

She faintly smiled at this thought, shaking her head in the process. She had always wondered why people made such a fuss about naming their children- but now she knew, oh how she knew indeed.

Both she and Albus had thought of many names for their future child, of course- but for some reason, it was so terribly hard to already decide upon a name before the actual child was there- before they knew what it looked like, before they could feel it in their arms, before they could look into its eyes. She lightly touched her swollen belly and smiled.

Two months, my child.

Two months.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Chapter Nineteen**

As the first, sharp wave of pain shot through Minerva's back- only to slowly, slowly subside again- her eyes opened immediately, and in the dark, she laboriously turned her head to look at the magically illuminated clock on her bedside table. Two o'clock in the morning, December 28th.

It couldn't be. She'd been dreaming- yes, of course she had been merely dreaming. She had always had a somewhat lively imagination, after all, and the fact that the pain had seemed terribly real did not change anything after all. It was too early. Of course it was.

Drowsily, already half asleep once more, her eyelids were lowered again- but as the second jolt rushing through her spine made her toes curl with pain, all thoughts of sleep were forgotten- and for a moment, she panicked. It was hard to admit, even to herself, but Minerva McGonagall was panicking, and it was with trembling hands that she shook the sleeping form of her husband. His arms were folded protectively around her waist, the way they always were, and his initial, only reply to her touch was a deep sigh- followed by his face snuggling closer into her hair.

"Albus!"

The man she loved so much looked positively like an idiot, Minerva thought, as, in obvious confusion and sleepiness, his blue eyes fluttered open and he stared at her, eyesight obviously vague due to the lack of his glasses on the bridge of his long, crooked nose. Almost automatically, though, they closed again, preparing to return to dreamland- and Minerva gritted her teeth. Greatest wizard of all times- sure- but totally useless at two o'clock in the morning! The next shot of pain was almost paralyzing- and her next words were equally strong.

"Albus, your wife is giving birth, for God's sake!"

Minerva had to admit that she'd underestimated the physical condition of her husband, though- before within two seconds, the grey-haired wizard sat straight up in bed, eyes opened as if they would never close again. His question, though, was quite ridiculous indeed.  
"Are you sure?"

Minerva's voice sounded uncharacteristically hysterical as she balled her fists to prevent herself from slapping her husband.

"How would I know, Albus, seeing it is not anything I have EVER EXPERIENCED BEFORE!"

The flame of sheer panic enlightening his clear, blue eyes for a second, though, calmed her nerves down immediately. This was very characteristic to her- she knew herself well indeed. Minerva had always been the calmest, the most pulled together, in crisis situations. Whatever she felt was forgotten then- only the result counted, the solution- and she did not hesitate at those times, when action was all that was needed.

Like now. She was still lying down, true- back half-arched as a new cramp attacked her abdomen, hands stroking her own belly so as to try to calm it down- in vain, and yet something in her eyes was "Minerva" again. It was the calm, commanding look of a woman who had pulled herself together- and in a way, it was also the gaze of many, many woman through the ages- a prehistoric sort of realization that the time had come and that there was nothing to do about it.

"Albus, go fetch Poppy."

She couldn't keep the corners of her mouth from twitching as another wave of pain engulfed her, causing Albus to sit down beside her for a moment, resting a wrinkled hand against her forehead.

"Minerva- I can't leave you alone now."

The witch felt a sudden urge to roll her eyes, to snap- but the sincere look of worry- and adoration- in his eyes, kept her from it, and she even slightly smiled as she rested a pale, now sweaty hand against his cheek.

"You're a very noble knight indeed, my Lord- but I do fear that this is a business for which even knights have to abandon their lady for a couple of minutes…"

Her soft, humorous tone, the Scottish lilt ever so obvious, echoed through the room- and Minerva knew that it somehow helped to enlighten the mood a little. She knew he was very nervous- he had not for nothing been fussing over her constantly during the last, two months of her pregnancy- but then again, so was she. For exactly that reason, really- because the "last two months of her pregnancy", actually were supposed to be the sixth and seventh month. Her child, as if the other… circumstances of her pregnancy hadn't been dangerous enough, would be born two months too early on top of it all. Because of that she had not the least doubt- it would be born now.  
Whether it would be alive- or dead- that she did not know.

But the spreading wetness against the insides of her thighs did prove for a fact that it, he, she, was coming- and she, Minerva, would be ready to receive. Oh yes she would.

A curt, determined nod of her raven-haired head was the last reassurance the witch's husband needed, before, with a quick kiss and the assurance of his being back within half a minute, leaving the room.

And Minerva simply leant back onto the cushions, secretly praying- but that she admitted only to herself- that indeed he would be back soon.


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Chapter Twenty**

As, less than two minutes later indeed, a dressing-gowned Poppy; eyes big and sleepy, arrived in the door-opening, Minerva looked up from the book she had picked up, smiling between two cramps.

"Hello, Poppy. Seems like the little one has decided to arrive a little earlier than originally planned."

Minerva was surprised at her own, calm tone- even when a contraction arched her back in pain. Poppy obviously was as well, for, snatching the book out of Minerva's hands, she shook her head.

"I'll honestly never believe you- goodness, lie down, don't sit up, don't you dare touch that book anymore and don't you give me that glare! You have a child to deliver here!"

Minerva rolled her eyes, then quickly obeyed. Indeed lying down was more comfortable to her terribly aching back- but she had always felt uncomfortable lying down when not asleep. It was such a- useless pastime. And yet she knew very well that this time, no-one could ever label it to be useless. It was as Poppy said indeed. She had a child to deliver. Yet another, impish smile graced her face as she noticed her husband, standing slightly lost next to the bed, obviously totally at loss of words as Poppy sat down at Minerva's feet. The black-haired witch merely squeezed her husband's hand.

'Wish me luck." she mouthed, and he nodded, worry shining from every look from his blue eyes. Poppy merely rolled her brown ones.

"Albus, sit down next to your wife." the Mediwitch instructed with a faint gesture of her hand.

"Hold her hand and keep holding it even if she manages to break it. Understood?"

It was remarkable, Albus reflected, how many Professor McGonagall-traits Madam Pomfrey all of a sudden possessed- and yet almost automatically, Albus threw an arm around his wife instead. The grateful smile he received, accompanied by her snuggling deeper into his chest as another wave of pain overcame her, convinced him that she liked this better as well, and Poppy merely shook her head.

"Alright, Minerva, this will take a few more hours."

_Hours? _Minerva stared at Poppy in disbelief. Was she supposed to just lie here for hours, just to stare at the ceiling and wait, now and then feeling this horrible- kind of strange pain- setting her abdomen on fire.

Oh wonderful. Minerva watched the arrows on the clock tick time away, and sighed. It would be a long night indeed.

But all thoughts of time were forgotten very soon, for as the contractions gradually started to intensify and quicken in pace, Minerva found it very, very hard indeed to focus on any rational thoughts any longer. She was aware of Albus's arm around her, of his beard tickling her ear and of Poppy rummaging somewhere- down there. For her own mental health she totally refused to wonder what she was doing- but it hurt.

Resting her hands against her swollen belly, she started panting as another sharp, deep contraction cut straight through her back once more. Her own uncontrolled breath surprised her- but she did not think anymore. Her hands folded tightly around her all of a sudden enormous-looking belly, she closed her eyes as she heard the Mediwitch's voice speak the words she had anticipated and feared all the time.

"Minerva- push!"

And she did push- of course she did. Her own cry tore her ears apart- senses all of a sudden gone in overdrive. Now she was glad that she did not hold Albus's hand after all. His arm around her shoulder felt quite as good- and she was one hundred percent sure that she would broken his hand had she been holding it now. It- _now come on, Minerva, it is not as bad as a Cruciatus, now is it?_ the witch heard herself thinking.

The next cry deafened her ears though- and there was no more. Albus's eyes above her shone with worry, a faint tear trickling down his parchment-like cheek as he held her.

_Oh my darling Minerva- what have I done to you?_

Her big, green eyes were glowing with pain, and he could feel her tremble with pain as a long, stifled cry left her thin lips. If- if anything went wrong, he would never forgive himself, he knew. This was all his doing- because of him, she was in such a damn lot of pain, and-

"Minerva- Minerva, I am so sorry…"

But the contraction had subsided once more- for a short time- and apparently even whilst in labour, his beloved wife could still raise her eyebrow in that delightful way of hers.

"It's- okay, Albus. Just- remember- that you're never- so much as- touching me- again, okay?"

But the mischievous grin she sent him, despite the next, heavier, contraction, quite consoled him, and in a soothing gesture, he rested his cool hand against her sweaty forehead.

Until-

"Min, push like you've never pushed before! I can see its head!"

The shriek of the Mediwitch was not so much frightened as it was triumphant- and her chubby cheeks showed two fiery blushes as she gently patted her friend's belly.

"Any minute now, Min- any minute!"

Albus stared at her in surprise and Poppy faintly nodded. He could hardly believe it, though. He'd anticipated this moment for so long- and now all he was worried about was his wife's health. She tried to be brave, of course, but she looked very pale indeed- very weak, too, and her lips had lost all colour. He knew the Mediwitch shared these worries of his- though she would never voice them.

It would be a very close run indeed.

But all two of them had underestimated the power of a desperate Lioness indeed, for with a last, teary, almost- wounded scream, Minerva arched her back in pain, and the next thing Albus noticed was Poppy Pomfrey catching a small- crying- form in her arms.

He couldn't believe it.

Minerva could, though- and a faint smile spread on her sweaty face.

"I- did it."


	22. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"I'll leave you three by yourselves then. Once more, my sincere congratulations!"

With these words and a large smile, Poppy Pomfrey closed the door behind her back- and they were alone.

Albus tentatively stepped a bit closer to the bed- then stopped to take in the sight in front of him. Minerva looked tired but happy as she lay there, propped up against the mahogany headboard of the bed, long, black hair loosely surrounding her pale, sweaty face- but a fiercely proud smile fixed on her lips as she looked down at the small bundle resting against her chest, in the fold of her emerald-clad elbow.

He could not but smile rather sheepishly as he felt a strange, new sort of pride well up inside of his chest. Yes, perhaps he was the great Albus Dumbledore- but this was something new to him too. Because there, right in front of him, lay his wife and his newborn daughter. His family.

As all of a sudden, the big, green eyes of his wife were, with a smile, focused on him instead, he sheepishly grinned and stepped a little closer still. He still couldn't quite believe that he really was- a father.

"Well, Albus, what is wrong? Is my big, strong hero a little shy, then?"

Her lopsided grin was positively wicked now- and with two strides, he was sitting next to her, moving entirely on instinct and pulling her into one of his, as she put it, "more breathtaking kisses".

When he finally released her- about an eternity or two later- she was, indeed, positively gasping for breath, and the paleness of her cheeks was quite replaced by two fiery blushes as she leant her forehead against his.

"Not that shy, then, are you, my knight?"

The twinkle in her eyes was obvious, and he shook his head.

"No, Milady- just a little… dumbfounded by this young lady's arrival in town…"

He lowered his eyes to the small child in her arms- then slowly raised a hand and stroked its pale cheeks with a wrinkled finger. He was rewarded by a slight trembling of the tiny eyelids- and smiled. He knew enough. He knew the sky blue of the child's irises only too well- for he saw it in the mirror, everyday. And yet the facial expression as the child wrinkled its nose and attempted something of a smile was definitely Minerva's- as was the nose, and as was the deep black of its hair.

"I guess I'll be the slave of two witches then, from now on…" the wizard teasingly added, but as his wife rested her head on his shoulder with a happy sigh, he knew how happy he was.

"You bet you are- but ah, you love your women, don't you?"

He nodded, and for a moment, they just revelled in one of those real, comfortable silences between people who really understand each other. Albus couldn't hold his tongue for much longer, though, and gently holding his wife and daughter close, he finally inquired

"And what, pray tell me, Milady, is this young Lady's name?"

Minerva looked up with a smile. She knew very well how curious he was- and, slowly tracing his facial features with a slender finger, started

"Well, I've thought about this a great deal, and well- since all of you Dumbledore people have names starting A, I thought it appropriate, to… that, and her first name means "the striving one", and if any child ever strived to make it into life, then I guess it was, indeed, our daughter. It's also the name of your grandmother. As her middle name I picked my grandmother's name- though with a slightly different spelling."

He smiled as he got hold of her wrist and stopped both her torrent of words and her movement. There was still question in his eyes, though, as he bowed over and then, lightly, pecked her on the lips.

"Amelia-?"

Minerva smiled a happy smile as she stroked her daughter's cheek and looked her husband in the eyes.

"This, my knight, is Amelia Eszter Dumbledore."

And after a short pause, she added

"And she is our daughter."

**The End**

Author Note: Thanks to everybody who reviewed!!! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!


End file.
